


The Vault

by gray_autumn_sky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Regina takes Robin to her vault spurs a realization for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vault

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth when her fingers curl down around his, as she leads him off the main road and deeper into the woods behind the cemetery. Though it’s dark, he can see that there’s a narrow path—a path meant for one— leading toward the stone mausoleum that’s nestled at the back of the woods, hiding a hidden space that few have ever been trusted enough to see.

They’d stood at the edge of the road, where their paths would diverge—he would go back to the Merry Men’s camp and she would go…wherever it was that she went when they weren’t together. Sometimes that meant home, sometimes it meant back to her office, and other times it was her vault, tucked away at the back of the woods—so close to where he was, yet so far away.

It was meant to be a kiss goodnight, but he found himself unable to let her go, even after the kiss had ended. He’d rested his forehead against hers, watching as their breath clouded between them, wanting to hold her for just a little while longer.

“I’m not ready to say goodnight,” he murmured, leaning in and closing the small gap between them. She’d kissed him back so fervently, telling him without words that she wasn’t ready for the night to end either, because it wasn’t a kiss that said goodbye. He’d smiled against her mouth, drawing her closer as his hand tangled in her hair—the realization settling upon him that he was falling in love. He’d pulled back and their eyes met; through dark he could see her blush, almost girlishly as she looked away from him—suspecting that she, too, might be falling in love.

He’d kissed her cheek as he released her and she’d smile as a sort of sadness settled in her eyes. He always hates this part of saying goodnight to her. He hates to think of her alone—alone with her thoughts and the painful memories of a son who no longer remembers her. He thinks of her locking the doors and ascending up the stairs of a house that’s too quiet, passing by Henry’s bedroom and lingering at a door that will never open, unless she opens it and if she does, how the loss of him will consume her; he thinks of emptiness that he knows she feels, and he hates that when she climbs into bed at night, he’s not there to hold her and help her through the pain.

And so when she told him that she had to go, he wasn’t ready to let her; when she told him that she would spend the night working on a spell that would keep Mary-Margaret and her unborn child safe, he’d asked her if she wanted company. She’d smiled tentatively and asked if he was sure, and he told her that he was.

Her pace slows and she leads him inside the mausoleum. It’s completely dark and he can’t see a thing, but she continues onward, leading the way on a path she memorized long ago. And he follows blindly, trusting her to lead him—trusting her so completely.

He feels her grip tighten on his hand as they start down wide-set stairs. “Robin,” she begins, stopping mid-way. He rubs his thumb over her wrist. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” he murmurs. He steps closer to her. He can feel her hesitate and though he can’t see her, he knows that her eyes are filled with fear—worried that if she reveals too much of herself to him, he’ll back away. “That is, if you want me to.”

“I do,” she admits in a small voice, as she takes a step forward.

A moment later the room is aglow with candles. His eyes search the room—the cool gray stone looks so cozy and warm in the candlelight; books and glass jars line shelves, and trunks and magical relics make him smile, reminding him of a world he’s left behind. Somehow, he’d expected the lair of the Evil Queen to look a bit more menacing and less like a cross between a library and an apothecary.

His eyes settle on her and he smiles, “So, what can I do to help?”

Her eyebrow arches and she laughs a little. “Well,” she begins, turning her back to him as she examines the contents of a shelf, carefully reading labels and extracting the bottles she wants. She arranges them on a tray carefully, then bends to open a cabinet—he watches as a she selects a clear jar before mulling through the contents of a drawer.

His eyes trail away from her, a soft red glow catching his eye. He turns toward it, taking a few steps in its direction. He looks back at Regina, smiling as she examines two droppers. He reaches out and pulls back the curtain and the red glow brightens. His lips purse a little as he looks at rows upon rows of glowing boxes—hearts, he quickly realizes—the remnants of the lives she’d ripped apart.

“All you have to do is…” He turns at the sound of her voice. “Oh…”

“I was curious,” he tells her with a guilty smile, watching as she looks past him, watching as her eyes settle on the hearts behind him. He hates that he’s forced her to reveal something about herself that she wasn’t quite yet ready to reveal. “Regina…I’m sorry.”

Her eyes dart back to him, “You’re apologizing?”

He nods, “I shouldn’t have pulled back that curtain. It was obviously drawn for a reason.”

She nods and takes a breath, “I knew what you’d find if I brought you here.” Her eyes fall away from him and he watches as she grimaces, and for a moment, the guilt consumes her, and his heart aches. Looking back at the glowing boxes, he pulls back the curtain, and again, they’re hidden from sight. “I’m sure knowing what I did is different than actually seeing the proof of it with your own eyes.”

He stares at her for a moment, taken aback by the realization that she thinks his feelings for her could change that quickly, that easily. And then it occurs to him that, for her, it wouldn’t be the first time. He moves toward her and loops his arm around her waist, pressing his lips against her hair. “This doesn’t change a thing.” She turns to face him. “Besides, there’s more blood on my hands than you know.” Again he presses his lips to her hair, letting them linger for a moment as he whispers, “But that’s in the past—my sins are my past, as are yours.”

Her eyes meet his and he smiles—he was wrong before. He’s not falling in love with her. No, he’s already fallen—helplessly, madly, completely. He’s in love with her.

Again, he feels her fingers curl around his. “So, you still want to help?”

He nods, letting her lead him once more. He listens to her instructions—what to mix first, how much to mix of this, and what to keep away from that. He listens, finding himself thinking that there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, nothing that couldn’t forgive.

He loves her—and when he catches her watching him, catching the way she looks at him as he follows her instructions, catching the way she smiles—he can’t help but wonder, if she’s in love with him, too.


End file.
